


Fathers Cry

by Oh_Dearie_Dear



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AndForCryingWomen/Girls, Father Gold, Father Rumple, MilahWasManipulativeSorryNotSorry, Papa Gold, Papa Rumple, RumpleHasASoftSpotForKids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-15 20:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Dearie_Dear/pseuds/Oh_Dearie_Dear
Summary: “And so, without further adieu,” Snow paused with dramatic flair - to which Rumple sighed over his shoulder, as to not upset his wife. “we announce, Prince Neal!”And then he froze, eyes bulging so large they resembled his reptilian ones so long ago.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beware: This is not edited.

    “And so, without further  adieu,” Snow paused with dramatic flair - to which Rumple sighed over his shoulder, as to not upset his wife. “we announce, Prince Neal!”

     And then he froze, eyes bulged so large they resembled his reptilian ones so long ago.

     Rumple had been having a decent night, actually. The food tasted good, the company left him alone for the most part, and his little Belle was perched happily next to him. All in all, the night was going well.

     But nothing ever  _ really _ goes well for him, does it?

     He closed his eyes slowly, gently brought his hand directly to his nose, and held it there for a moment. He'd suspected - hoped - that he'd feel something. Some odd feeling that would send comfort to him at such a hard time, but he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

    He knew - deep down, in his battered, stone cold heart - that they meant well. That they meant to honor him, to pay respects to his son. Or, more importantly, Henry’s father. But as the scene before him slowed, as his breath staggered, he knew they were doing the complete opposite, no matter their intentions. 

    They’d erased him. Erased his past, his memories, his  _ name _ . A name that Rumple had been so honored to give his son - even if Milah did come up with it. The name Bealfire  _ meant _ something. It was who he was. Baelfire was the real hero, not Neal Cassidy, the made-up hero they conjured to fit into their perfect and twisted story. 

    But, as always, what could he do? Everyone was cheering. Drinks clinked, confetti was thrown. Even Henry, as upset as he was, was smiling so wide it reminded him of his son. He wouldn’t ruin the night, if not for Henry, then for Belle, who’s hand was to her heart as her eyes watered. His little Belle, feeling every emotion anyone gave. He’d let her have this. 

    And that didn’t necessarily mean joining in on it. He could let them have their moment...from afar, of course. 

    Standing up and patting her leg, he whispered reassuringly as he headed to the door. With the little bell signaling his departure, Rumple was gone. 

\-----------

    Hours went by, so much so that it was now dark and windy. He was now grateful for the extra scarf Belle had nagged him to take. He knew he didn’t deserve her, and yet she was there. 

    Metaphorically speaking, of course. At the moment, she was probably chatting with Ruby or baby-talking to the new edition of the Charmings. As for him, well, he’d rather get lost in the rhythm of the docks’ waves. As a boy, he’d loved the ocean. He’d beg and beg his aunts to take him, until he tired them out and they’d caved into letting him go himself. 

    Ever since the damn pirate, though, he’d found the ocean rather unsettling. 

    A squeak made him whip his head around, only to find a sheepish-looking Mary Margaret, trying her hardest to steer a stroller where she wanted it to go. 

    “Sorry…is this seat taken?” She smiled shyly, offering no explanation as she took his silence for a yes. With an unflattering grunt, she plopped down, sighing in relief. But still, silence. 

    Rumple always found ignoring someone right next to you was hard. This was going to be a long night. 

    “Why’d you leave?” Her face turned towards him, but he remained staring at the ocean. 

    The real question was whether he should be honest or not. Part of him wanted to yell at the overly optimistic woman, give her what she should have known was coming. But another part of him - a small,  _ small _ part, might he add - decided against it. The woman herself had never personally attacked him - not unprompted, anyhow - and it would be cruel to upset her in such a vulnerable state with a child. 

    “Too loud.” Was his nonchalant response. He still wouldn’t look at her. 

    “Oh,” Mary Margaret seemed just as uncomfortable as he was. “Well,”

    A loud wail pierced his ears then, forcing his eyes to land on the mother whose eyes were closed and lips were tight. She let out a tired sigh and bent down to grab the wiggling infant from the stroller. 

    Even as Mary Margaret swaddled the child and rocked him back and forth, the child still continued to cry. Desperate, she began to hum, which only ended up making a nauseating combination of sounds. The frustrated mother then tried standing and bouncing, which only seemed to make it worse. 

    Rumple figured she’d want some privacy to deal with her baby, so he stood up awkwardly and clasped his hands together. Only to unclasp his hands and sigh out loud once he caught a glance of the mother. 

    Streaks of frustrated tears ran down her red cheeks, and tired eyes were wide and panicked. Eyebrows were pinched and her lower lip quivered as she tried to shush the little infant in her arms. 

    Dammit, why’d she have to cry? Rumple could do yelling, hitting, anger, betrayal - you name it - but crying? He couldn’t do crying. Why do you think he stayed with Milah for so long? 

    “Try wrapping the blanket tighter,” He offered. “And keep your moving consistent, pick a pattern of swaying and keep to it.”

    It came out harsher than he planned, but whatever, she got the point. 

    As Mary Margaret took his advice, he rummaged through the stroller for a binky. Finding one, he cleaned it off with his handkerchief and handed it to her. With the combination of swaying and the binky in the babes mouth, the crying ceased. 

    “I’m sorry,” Wiping her eyes, Mary Margaret sniffled. “It’s all so knew to me, and I know I should already know this stuff and - we just didn’t get to do this with Emma - it’s just knew.”

    He understood. The moment he held Baelfire for the first time was in the book. The rest of the night - where he panicked and didn’t get a wink of sleep - was not. 

    “You don’t need to apologize, he’s a baby. Babies cry.” He shrugged, finally meeting her gaze.

    “That’s not what I’m apologizing for...” 

    He waved a hand. “You’re a mother. Mothers cry.” 

    She laughed at that, taking a seat once Neal finally fell asleep. 

    “And only mothers?” She challenged. He snorted. 

    “I wish. I’m sure Henry’s shown you his book.” 

     “Not all of it,” Meaning, all the stories except his. Typical. 

    “Well, then, maybe I do have some dignity left.” Mary Margaret lifted an eyebrow at that. 

    “ _ You _ cried?” She sounded shocked. He couldn’t blame her. 

    “Blubbered.” 

    “ _ Blubbered?” _

    “Like a child at bedtime.” Admitting it to her felt funny, especially her of all people. 

    Mary Margaret smiled at that, patting Neal’s bottom happily. The silence was nice this time. Too bad she had to break it. 

    “So why  _ did _ you leave?”

    “I already told you.” 

    Her head tilted towards him and her eyes narrowed skeptically. “You just sat through a baby wailing and me humming your ears dry. It wasn’t too loud.” 

    “Your point?” 

    “Why do you have to be like this?” 

    “Like  _ what?”  _

    She huffed. “Difficult! We try to include you in things, and you just...just...I thought you’d be happy!”

    “Whyever so?” 

    “Cut the crap, Gold.” She exhaled through puffed cheeks. “We name our son after yours, and you just storm out without saying why. You owe me an explanation.

    “I don’t owe you anything.”

    “ _ Why are you so stubborn? _ We’ve done nothing to deserve that.” 

    “You don’t deserve anything.” 

_     “Excuse me?” _

    He put his hands up. “That came out wrong. I mean, you don’t deserve anything from me. I’m not obligated to tell you anything, as you’re not obligated to tell me anything. Like what you are doing here, for example.”

    “I’m  _ talking _ to you.”

    “And look how well that’s going.” 

    Mary Margaret looked about ready to strangle him. Suddenly, Rumple was grateful for the baby in her arms. “For a few minutes, just pretend we’re friends.”

    He was about to protest but she beat him to it. 

    “ _ Pretend _ . Just pretend, and for once, be honest with me and tell me why you left.” 

    “I’ve never been dishonest,” He retorted. 

    “But you’ve conveniently left thing out. That’s not entirely honest, now is it?” For a new - ish - mother, she’s got the scolding look down. He sighed. 

    “What do you want me to say? You’re all annoying and don’t stop talking. That’s reason enough.” 

    “Yes, but is that the  _ only _ reason?” She pressed. And he wanted to pull his hair out. 

    Fine. If she wanted him to be honest, he’d be honest.

    “No,” He said gruffly. 

    “No…?” She trailed off. 

_     “No,”  _ He barked. “You people have something to celebrate.”

    “So do you.” She spoke up. 

    “Do I, now?”

    “That witch is gone!”

    “So is my son.” 

    Silence, as he expected. Mary Margaret nodded. “I understand.” 

    “No, you don’t.” She seemed to pause at that, contemplating what he said. She couldn’t deny it. 

    “I know all of this doesn’t make up for your son’s death, but he died a hero. His sacrifice-”

    “-was a  _ mistake _ . I chose to die. I made my peace with it before it happened, I thought it through, it meant  _ something _ .”

    “And his sacrifice didn’t?” She challenged. 

    “That’s not my point. I died willingly for the two family members I had left. I knew the price - he didn’t. And that right there makes a difference, Mary Margaret. He wasn’t willing to die. And I wasn’t willing to let him go.” 

    “But he  _ was _ willing.”

    “Only in the end,” He shook his head. “Only when he knew there was no other choice. There shouldn’t have been any  _ choices _ .”

    Her eyebrows scrunched. “What do you mean?”

    He looked up at her, eye to eye. “He should not have brought me back. You and I both knew it. No child should die for their parent.” 

    “But he didn’t die for you,” Mary Margaret said softly. “He died for all of us and the town.” 

    Rumple laughed. “No, he didn’t. He died so I could tell you who Zelena was.” 

    “Wait,  _ what? _ ” 

    Rumple looked to the ground mournfully. “I’m surprised Emma didn’t tell you.”

    “Tell me  _ what? _ ” She looked distraught. 

    He looked up to her again. “The price of resurrection is a person. A soul for a soul. When Belle and Bae resurrected me, I...molded my son with me so he could live. That’s how Emma got that memory potion. He wrote that note and sent it.” 

    “But..how can two people live in one?”

    “They can’t. Which is why he separated from me, so I could tell all you heros who Zelena is. Nevermind I was still being controlled by the dagger...by Zelena.”

    Mary Margaret was quiet now, processing probably. 

    “So he really did die for you.” 

    He nodded. “I was able to save your son, by not my own.” 

    “And...there really was no other way?” She turns to him, eyes wide. “You’re the king of loopholes, there had to be another way.” 

    “Me molding with him  _ was _ a loophole,” He explained. “And maybe there was another way. But how was I supposed to do anything while Zelena held that dagger? By the time your husband found us, Emma had already separated us. And by the time I could have possibly done something, your daughter and husband were already leaving and Zelena was already there to collect me.” 

    A stab of guilt hit Mar Margaret in the stomach as she looked at the man next to her, his head down and eyes just a little bit wet. They had left him in the hands of that witch, after his son had been murdered in front of him...and while  _ they _ had a funeral service for  _ his _ son. Oh, God...what have they done?

    “You didn’t get to go to his funeral,” She said it quietly, as if bewildered herself. “You were…” 

    “With that witch, yes.” He sucked in a breath. “If I would have been there, his gravestone would not say Neal, as it does now.”

    And suddenly, Mary Margaret got it. She understood why he left. And it sickened her to the core of her body. How could they have been so careless? 

    “I get it,” 

    “Get what?”

    “Why you left.”

    “That was the goal.” 

    Placing a hand on his hunched shoulders, she hesitantly squeezed. 

    “I’m sorry.” She squeezed it again, harder this time. “I’m  _ really _ sorry.”

    He patted her hand softly. “I know you are.” 

    Even though he removed his hand, she didn’t remove hers. She kept it there until Neal started fussing again, wiggling and whimpering. Holding her baby close to her chest, she swallowed. 

    “Would you like to hold him?”

    The pure shock in his eyes told Mary Margaret it was a good idea. She didn’t wait for him to nod and gently placed the fussing baby into his arms. 

    Immediately, he cocooned his arms perfectly and held the child close to his chest. And just like that, she finally got to see the father in him everyone chose to ignore. And when the baby became fussy, his arms bounced automatically, and in perfect rhythm. 

    “He’s darling.”  

    “I think so, too, but I’m a little biased.” 

    Rumple smiled at that and brought a finger to brush the child’s cheek. The child gurgled in response, trying his best to grab ahold of Rumple’s fingers. When that didn’t work, the child waved his arms around to show his irritance. Rumple laughed. 

    “Looks like you have a little attitude, huh?” He cooed, to which Mary Margaret giggled. Who knew the Dark One had a soft spot for kids? 

    “You don’t know the half of it.” She joked. 

    Rumple gently swayed the child as his arms flailed aimlessly. Mary Margaret smiled as one of Neal’s chubby fingers reached up and grabbed ahold of Rumple’s nosed. She let out a laugh, only to stop at Rumple’s ghosted look. 

    “Gold?” She set a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was then she saw a few tear streaks on his cheeks. He didn’t bother wiping them. 

    “Bae touched my nose.”

    “Bae touched your nose?”

    “Bae touched my nose when he was born. First thing he ever did.” Despite the free tears falling down his face, Rumple was smiling. “He was such a good kid.” 

    “I can only imagine.” 

    Rumple then seemed to realize his tears, and wiped them quickly. He moved forward and softly set Neal in her arms. “I apologize.” 

    Mary Margaret shrugged gently. “You’re a father. Fathers cry.”

    He smiled a little before waving awkwardly and stepping backwards. “I best be going. Belle will be wondering where I am. Thanks for...that.” 

    And with that, Rumple turned around and left. 

\----

    The next day, while feeding Neal, Mary Margaret made a call to a local gravestone maker. Three days later, her husband and her sat on a bench with Neal and fed the birds. She watched from a distance as Rumple approached his son’s grave with wide eyes that darted to her not a minute later. Sitting Neal up, she used his little hand to wave at Rumple. She was delighted to see him return a hesitant wave with a crooked smile. 

    “David, do we have a babysitter yet?” She turned to her husband, who had just finished sprinkling the remainder of the bird seed on the ground. 

    “Not officially, no. Why?” He brushed off his hands. 

    Mary Margaret’s eyes watched as Rumple keeled next to his son’s grave. “I think I have someone in mind.”  

  
  



	2. YOU GUYS, OMG!

     You, guys...I am absolutely _floored_ at the responses I've gotten regarding this one shot. I am shocked, and just...so so grateful. I put a lot of effort into these one shots, and it's just so nice to know you guys are enjoying and appreciating the work I've done.  

    To those of you who have commented or left kudos, _bless you_. I hope your crush asks you out and your lunch is good! If any of you are writers yourselves (I've seen the some of you are), you know how much comments and feedback are appreciated. I get so excited when I see an email, alerting me that one you amazing people have either left kudos or commented, or sometimes _both_. It's amazing and such a good feeling, and I just wanted to take the time to thank all of you. 

     Because of my endless gratefulness (bottomless, I tell you), I would love to offer you guys a chance to be apart of the plot making. I love writing, but sometimes, ideas just stop. That doesn't mean my hands want to stop writing, of course. My hands twitch at the _thought_ of writing. Anyway, my point here was to offer a chance for you guys to request any idea you've wanted but haven't seen. You can be as specific as you want, or just offer a blunt idea that I can try to spin into something enjoyable. Just a few things before I open this up (this is guessing some of you _actually want_ to requests something, lol). 

 

-You didn't have to review any of my works to request something! Any of you can request!

-No smut. I've never written it, and have never wanted to. Sorry!

-I love angst, as you can clearly tell from my history. Hit me with that angst. 

-I do use words that some of you might not enjoy (I'm referring to cussing), so if you want something clean (as in no curse words), please specify and I will do my best:). 

-If you requests a ship that I don't necessarily enjoy, I might not center the one-shot around romance. This doesn't mean I won't do it, just simply that I might alter the relationship status to make it platonic. This is in no way discouraging anyone from shipping who they like! I simply like certain ships, and sometimes feel uncomfortable with others. No shame, just preference:). 

-I'm very excited to see what you all come up with (expecting anyone answers, lol), and will try my best to do all of you requests! Just know that, if needed, I might have to alter a few details. I will still try my best to keep it the way it was asked! 

-If I don't get to yours immediately, please understand that I am trying my hardest. My laptop has died (not just the battery, unfortunately), and I've been having to use my mother's to post anything. I will do my best to get your request written and posted as soon as I can!

       

     I hope you all take advantage of this, and shower me with any crazy or fun idea you've ever had but have never found. And remember, there's no limit to how much you can request. You can request multiple things, and I may do all of them and I may only do one. It will depend on what the idea is! If you don't feel comfortable commenting, you can message me and your request will be completely be anonymous! I hope you all enjoy, and thank you again for all the support and loving feedback! 

**Author's Note:**

> So, my poor laptop is finally dead. I need to get a new one. I wrote this on my phone and then posted it on my mom's laptop. This is just a one shot I came up with randomly in the middle of writing another one shot similar to this. I hope you all enjoy it!


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